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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210675">Habits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BNana/pseuds/BNana'>BNana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>NCT Dream One Shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Hurt/Comfort, I tagged this as other just in case ;-;, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Neighbors, Other, Reader is DFAB but no pronouns are used, Self-Hatred, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BNana/pseuds/BNana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone asked you, you saw Renjun for the first time when he and his friends visited the art gallery you worked at. If anyone asked him, he knew you had been neighbors for at least a few months before that. Even though you were both so incredibly alone- or, perhaps, because of it, you two were drawn to each other.<br/>Most importantly, you always managed to catch him off guard, and he was always there to catch you when you fell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Huang Ren Jun/Reader, maybe vague MarkJeno if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>NCT Dream One Shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Habits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>In the lazy swirl of steam, bouncing off the mirror and clinging to the tiles, you finally allowed yourself to meet his eyes. His hand still held firmly on your wrist, pinky lightly tracing where the thicker veins curled up towards your thumb. Both of you, upon this moment, realized you had been avoiding each other's gazes, though your reasons were quite different.</p><p>There was still a soft, doe-like glow, but with eyebrows knit and jaw tense, his face was not the same one you had seen many times before. This expression was new - or at least, new within the last month, and seeing it should have pained you. It should have, but you weren't quite sure if it actually did.</p><p>Before, you were often met with sparkling stars, a perfectly innocent but determined look to solve whatever newly discovered mystery of the world had challenged him that day. In the back of your mind, you struggle to recall the last time you had seen it - searching for anything to take you out of this moment.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>/</b>
</p><p>The first time you met Renjun was when the entire floor of your shared apartment building was without hot water for nearly four days. 'Meet' is not an entirely accurate description: it was more of a passing gaze when you had stormed through the hallway, aiming to finally give the landlord a piece of your mind.</p><p>He watched silently, trash bag in hand, as your hair left thin droplets along one side of the slant of your neck and shoulders. From there, they quickly disappeared into the thick material of your bath towel, tightly pulled against your abdomen. Certainly, as he would later admit to himself, not the first time he had seen a stranger's bare collarbones, but perhaps the most shocking and memorable. </p><p>It was about a year since he had arrived in Korea, and about three months since you had moved to Seoul, still in the chill, dusty season. No words were exchanged and the only reason he knew your name was because of misplaced mail. Much, much later, in a rare moment of sensitivity when he had insisted he knew you were neighbors before you even knew he existed, you tried to train your memory back to every day and every time you passed through the hallways. He remembered it clearly, but the specific event never came to you. He didn't necessarily stand out and you both knew it. You often wondered to yourself if he loved you more than you would be able to return.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>//</b>
</p><p>The second time you met Renjun was at work, about four months later- an uncharacteristically slow spring day, even for the darkest and tiniest gallery in Itaewon. At some point, you had shuffled into one of the backrooms to catalog the next upcoming show (which had devolved into opening and closing a line of filing cabinets), before your co-worker rapped her knuckles against the open door.</p><p>"Hey [y/n], did Hyukjae mention what time he was stopping in today?" A quick grimace caught her lips at the mention of your boss' name. </p><p>"Not sure. Probably before closing, right?" You hummed softly, rolling a shoulder after all of the "hard work" you had completed. She sucked in her bottom lip in thought, before standing up straight from where she was leaning on the door. With a gentle step backwards, her strong eye contact between you and the doorway seemed to internalize a silent scream, a visual plea indicating for you to follow.</p><p>You kicked the remaining filing cabinets closed and locked the door behind you. As she returned back to her place at the waist-high counter in the entryway, you saw as three young men quickly shuffled back over, shoving several pamphlets in all of the wrong places on the original shelf. They all met you with mildly confused eye contact, one of them even giving you a slightly sleazy, cat-like grin, as you passed by into the gallery itself.</p><p>From behind, your coworker continued what you assumed was the earlier conversation. "Unfortunately, he won't be in for a little while. I'm sorry to say that we can't disclose his specific schedule, either." A brief pause, as you assume she hands over a copy of your boss' business card. "Feel free to send an email regarding a potential interview, I'm sure he would love to help with your project." Though she was lying through her teeth, she still handled it well.</p><p>As you wander further away, you vaguely hear one of the boys ask your coworker about the property value in the area - something everyone collectively knew she wasn't qualified to estimate, while the other two snicker slightly. With that to cement your distaste for handling the situation, you shuffle your hands into the shallow pockets of your jeans, teetering through the longer end of the gallery's hallway.</p><p>The public relations part of the job had never been your strong suit; beyond the other local museums and collectors and charity organizations, you had little experience and were therefore inclined to avoid making small talk with guests. It was easier on everyone.</p><p>As you turned the corner, you noticed the thin line of automatic lights that illuminated this hallway. Standing a few feet down, but paused in front of a wall piece, was another figure. Similar stature and presumably age, you guessed he's with the other three but got bored and wandered off. His hair was a chestnut brown, tousled and soft-looking (it still is), and he had been wearing about two jackets too many for the weather. On his face was an almost dazed look, eyes trained up at the oil painting on the wall. </p><p>You had to admit that he was cute, in an unapproachable kind of way - the kind of boy who silently sits in a cafe reading for hours. Perhaps taking your chances could be worth it - either you befriend an equally jaded art critique or you scare him out of the gallery.</p><p>Quietly, you moved in, about a foot to the left, before pursing your lips. "Let me know if you have any questions." You stated plainly, a fully automated but noncommittal greeting that you break out quite often. After a beat, the boy's expression never broke or flinched, and you were instantly curious how invested he could actually be in the particular piece. "This one really isn't as interesting as you may initially think," you mused, rolling back onto your heels.</p><p>He jerked up, slightly in surprise but also perhaps slightly in offence, and looked you up and down for a brief moment. The action naturally made you tense your muscles a bit, in a typical way with how strangers subconsciously stressed you out. "N- no offense." You continued, with a pained grin, unsure of what else to say. </p><p>"Why not?" As he spoke, the 'T' came out particularly harsh. Honestly, he was hard to read, his stature petite enough that you didn't expect him to suddenly jump you for critiquing his taste in art. Most people didn't wander in off the street for no reason, after all, and it had been clear that his friends, at the very least, had some specific agenda. You noted how his hand fidgets nervously, tightly rolling and unrolling the material at the hem of his sweater, and part of you felt guilty for approaching him when he might have purposefully left the group. The internal quietness and perchance for avoiding any potential conflict is a mentality you understand quite well. "What makes it uninteresting?" He asked again, clarifying from what you can only imagine was your own bewildered expression.</p><p>You took in a grounding breath. "For starters, generally a lot of critics agree that he takes way too much information directly from other painters, in certain regards. Inspiration is fine, but copying is not. His personal style- you know, aesthetics and all... Now, that has potential, but his practical knowledge," you motioned along with some of the brushstrokes with a hand," the fundamentals, like figure placements and lighting, leave a lot to be desired, ironically enough. Oil isn't a very forgiving medium. Also, in my personal opinion, how he names artwork is really pretentious." Everything up until the last sentence was almost word-for-word from an exhibition review a few months ago, and you were sure he could hear the dispassionate, almost judgmental tone in your voice. "Really, we only still have this one up because our owner is dating his cousin." You let out a noncommittal shrug as the boy gives you a side glance, then hiccuped out a suppressed laugh. "What, was that too much?"</p><p>He pressed his lips together, a thin line, and thought for a second. "No, I could see why you would say all that." </p><p>You clapped your hands together, smile stretching a bit farther, a bit more sympathetic and genuine. "I suppose, even with all that, it could be interesting on a personal level! That's why art is difficult, everyone absorbs it differently. It really depends what you're looking for, on an individual basis." You stopped, continuing in a slow stroll until you're standing in front of another piece slightly further in the gallery's main hall. The entire way, his eyes stalked you. </p><p>"If you want narrative," you paused and flicked your thumb up to motion to the impressionist painting before you, "he's your guy. Really good at representing indescribable peaceful moments, too- nature stuff. Like when you wake up to a sunrise or hear the wind shifts through trees, that sort of thing." You returned the hand to your pocket and spun around to the other side of the hallway, this time tilting your head towards another piece. "Or actual monetary value - though, we're still a small gallery so the gap isn't too, too huge." You gave a weak grin out of politeness. "The logistics of what makes a piece worth more is super subjective though. Half of the time it's who-knows-who, the same sort of name brand value that I'm sure exists in fashion." Taking a slightly faster pace, you returned back the way you came until reaching your next goal.</p><p>As you slow, he spoke up again. "Why bring up fashion?" He seemed hesitant at that point, not as biting. As if you had seen through him.</p><p>"Fashion is just a form of interactive, high-end art, isn't it?" You shrugged, not really waiting for nor expecting an answer, and continued the unofficial tour.</p><p>Increasing your volume, you continued to relay which items are usually on the 'must-see' list of the particular exhibition, along with one or two personal favorites. The general public interest tended to cover predominantly unique style approaches or materials and historic relations to the region. After another three or four pieces, you return to his side. The entire time, he had simply watched you with a slightly entertained expression. "So," you oh-so-delicately tapped his shoulder with your's, slightly excited when seeing him jump out of the corner of your eye, "the real question I guess is what makes something interesting to <em>you</em>?" Without a moment's hesitation, he turned to return to the entrance, and in that split second you doubted that you would ever get a response. Perhaps you really had disturbed some alone time, though part of you lamented that bothering people in the gallery was sort of your job sometimes. The fact that he was patient enough to let you finish was something of a win in your eyes. </p><p>"I like things that distract me." He stated plainly, back to you, though he had been angled forward so you couldn't see him biting down a smile. "That's the best thing art can do, is be distracting."</p><p>As you watched him go further and further down the hall, one of his friends appeared in the archway. It was one of the taller boys who's darker hair sagged into his face yet didn't hide his widened eyes. "I can't believe we came to dig information and you just wandered away. Weren't you supposed to be looking for your 'inspiration' or something? Isn't that why we've been wandering around in the rain all day?"</p><p>He sighed, as his friend finally reached him. At this point, the taller boy, finally noticing you, gave a slightly sheepish smile that reached his eyes, and a brief nod of understanding to his friend, before they both turned to leave. The boy you had been talking to shoved him forward and grumbled something you didn't quite catch.</p><p>Though he wouldn't admit it, he had gotten enough out of the visit.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>///</b>
</p><p>The third time was, once again, in your apartment building, mere weeks after you saw him in your gallery. A late-night fire alarm had left your neighbors strewn about the sidewalk and small park area below. In the brief time, you had managed to grab a bowl of your (more or less) cooked spicy jokbal that had occupied your time over sleep. The smell had attracted some lingering glances from a few other tenants - mostly foreigners, university students and other struggling young adults like yourself. Two people in specific were staring you down intensely, wearing matching circular glasses and with black and dirty blonde hair, respectively, slightly disheveled from sleep or lack thereof.</p><p>They spoke lowly, bending down once or twice to knock a knuckle against the narrow shoulders of a third person on the ground. He was hunched over, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk and almost obscured fully from view due to the less-than-intimidating entourage. In the end, your curiosity had gotten the best of you as you wandered over. In his hands was a worn sketchpad and you could see a thin line where a black plastic headband pressed his bangs back against the crown of his head. His two friends exchanged a glance, and the one with darker hair let out a nervous laugh. You passed between them, placing yourself gingerly on the cement ground. He didn't look up, didn't pause, and you saw the odd expanse of geometric lines and angular patterns beneath his fountain pen.</p><p>"Are you incapable of respecting personal space?"</p><p>Somehow, it hadn't been the rudest thing a stranger had said to you. "Well, there's a lot of people out here, so I'm sure not everyone can have a full bodyguard perimeter." You took a bite of meat and chewed once or twice. "Plus," you confidently gave a pinched grin up to his friends, "I wanted to sit down".</p><p>The boy next to you snorted and grumbled under his breath, "There's a bench." You caught it, but didn't say anything further. The taller of his friend waddled around the edge to crouch in front of you, sporting a wide, honest smile, his eyes curving.</p><p>"Oh yeah!" He exclaimed, then opened his mouth in anticipation. After a moment of hesitance, you picked up a bite of your meal and half-fed, half-threw it into his mouth.</p><p>As you did so, the other standing guy laughed, kicking at his friend's sandal as he chewed. "That's sort of a birthday gift, right? How is it?" He asked sarcastically. "The entire hallway smelled like ginger as we were coming down, so it better be tasty."</p><p>The dark-haired boy finished chewing, swallowed, and clicked his tongue in thought. Finally, He responded with a thumbs up to his friend before turning back to you. "You work in Itaewon, right?" The brown-haired boy next to you paused for a moment before continuing, but at this point he was just relining something he had already drawn. Upon seeing your uncomfortable expression, the darker-haired guy laughed briefly, "no no, sorry. Ok, that was weird. We've met before, right?"</p><p>Intrigued, the last of the group finally bent down, trapping you in-between him and the grumpy artist, wide-eyed. "Wait, seriously?"</p><p>Snorting, the first guy quickly clarifies, "Yeah, Jaemin literally wouldn't stop telling me about his attack plan." Your brain never quite processed that first part, so instead you took another bite, very slowly. The blonder boy looked confused as well, so his friend slapped his shoulder and clarified, quietly in hopes you couldn't hear, "you know, his five-step bullshit for getting someone on a date?"</p><p>Licking your lips, you cleared your throat with just enough confidence for them to focus again. "Do I... actually know you?"</p><p>Finally, the boy beside you huffed and set down his book and pen before turning slightly. "We came to your gallery a few weeks ago. Four of us, we talked, uh-" he faltered, looking to his friends. In the pattern they were around you, he quickly pointed: "Mark wasn't there", the sandy-blonde who's roots were notably grown out, "Jeno", the dark-haired with an unrealistic smile (and appetite, as you soon discovered), "Renjun", the brown-haired boy pointed to himself, letting his finger droop and join back into a fist. As he went along, you nodded at each one. "We came with two other guys but they- uh, don't live with us, so..." Once Renjun, as you then learned, trailed off, you hesitantly gave your name as well. There was a brief moment of silence, and Mark, so he said, cocked an eyebrow at Renjun.</p><p>Instead of finishing his thought, he was instead distracted by the echoing across the crowd that the building was clear. In a swift motion, Renjun then chose to gather his book and pen from the ground and face his back towards you once more - like he did before, as you vaguely recalled. In a very deliberate manner, Mark had bent backwards then upwards, to follow his friend, but not before grabbing a chunk of meat from your bowl and leaving with a quick, "seeya". Left on the ground across from Jeno, he let out a soft hum, watching his roommates shuffle off towards the doorway. "He'll come around." He had told you, matter-of-factly, and you weren't certain why you never believed that.</p><p>As you deliberated exactly what that meant, or why you had really come over there in the first place, Jeno straightened back up, offering you a hand to stand. This time, as Renjun walked ahead of you, Jeno's shoulder brushed your's instead and he gave you a smaller smile this time. "We're in 3C." He paused, scratching lightly at his temple.</p><p>"Wait-" You called brashly, quickly quieting yourself so his roommates couldn't hear, "you guys are literally my neighbors?"</p><p>"Oh!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "That must make you the single girl in 4C that always listens to loud music in the shower?" There was nearly nothing you could say in response to that and Jeno seemed to notice your shock because he politely patted you on the shoulder. "That's not a complaint, just an observation. And- not to be forward, I mean, if you wanted to hang out or something... One of us is usually home. We have plenty of games. It could be fun." Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed slightly, "If you like that sorta stuff, I guess. Or if that's too uncomfortable, you could bring over friends," Jeno mumbled slightly, his tone pitched up almost in a question, as if something about you implied that you may not have friends or like making friends. That wasn't inherently wrong, you realized.</p><p>"Feel free to think about it." With just that, and another genuine smile, Jeno broke into a brief jog ahead to catch up with his roommates.</p><p>You looked down at the remaining, cooling meal in your bowl. Clicking your chopsticks together, you chose to finish eating outside. It saved the awkward chance of getting stuck in the same elevator ride and proving more validity to Jeno's unspoken theory that you were unbearably lonely.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>////</b>
</p><p>The fourth time you met Renjun was the first time you really, really looked at him, though still not up-close. The first time you noticed the shallow curve of his upper ear and how delicate his frame looked from behind and the thick outline of his adam's apple- how small his lips got when he pouted or how tired his eyes always looked or how, when he laughed enough and wasn't paying attention, there was this smooth, thin trail from his smile lines to his rounded nose and, in a few rare chances, the smallest hint of dimples. Somehow, just by being in the personal space of his (shared) apartment, several of the walls of resentment and unspoken awkwardness began to crumble.</p><p>Incidentally, you could finally notice that he possessed quite gentle features and therefore an ironically approachable face- perhaps, in hindsight, why he had to overcompensate with a thorny personality. Yet both of you knew, consciously or not, that he was not the same level of striking as some of his friends or classmates, not as eye-catching when walking in a group with Jaemin or Jeno. Yet every time you saw him from that point on, even in a room full of people, he was... distracting. </p><p>So for the third time you visited their apartment, perhaps a full month since they had introduced themselves on the street, you ended up promising to cook dinner the next night for Jeno and some other visiting friends, as he skipped out the door. Eventually, after that, it ended up expanding into a rotating schedule of either you or Jaemin (who you didn't meet until much later for some reason) coming over at least once a week to cook for Mark, Jeno, Renjun, occasionally Donghyuck, and some of their other friends as well. At first, you didn't speak much, beyond with Mark and Jeno, but Renjun also hardly showed up in the apartment the first few visits you made. Once, beforehand, you had seen him in passing on his way out (an astronomy club meeting, Mark had later informed you), but he didn't seem to return until long after you had left their apartment.</p><p>For this actual fourth encounter, however, he remained seated on their living room couch, a small paperback novel with a simplistic cover sat delicately in his lap and a few forgotten, partially-cut pattern pieces and remnants of scrap tracing paper lining the coffee table. You were across the room, seated at one of the two stools by their kitchen counter, jotting down on a sticky note local market advice from Mark's friend Jaehyun, who was on speaker phone. You hummed in response to each suggestion he gave you, glancing up on occasion upon the sound of paper fluttering when Renjun turned a page. Mark stood opposite you, attempting to build a tower of cards on the kitchen counter.</p><p>In the limited capacity you knew of Renjun, you had absolutely no clue why he would choose to read so carefully in the common area, especially with guests over- until, of course, his eyes flicked up from the paper, meeting your's directly.</p><p>In a moment that felt like an hour, you quickly swung around in the stool to (pretend to) engage with Mark, but the momentum and breeze destroyed his tower. He groaned, high-pitched and long, as Renjun, once again, gathered his things and left. Partially embarrassed, you still allowed yourself to momentarily focus on how the baby hairs by his neck frayed out and stuck to his skin or a slight crumpled wrinkle in his sweater from the position he had been sitting in.</p><p>With some rushed excuse, you thanked Jaehyun and dragged Mark to the store with you. To fill the awkwardness that bubbled up in your throat, you just tried to keep Mark talking the whole trip: what sort of food Jeno and Donghyuck liked, how long they had all known each other, why Jeno and Mark shared a room, which musicians did he like, what instruments he played, if he wanted to visit his family in Canada anytime soon. Anything to take your mind off the way Renjun's mouth had dropped open, ever so slightly, when your eyes caught his.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>/////</b>
</p><p>Finally, by your fifth interaction, after three months of passing greetings in the doorway of his apartment, the two of you could maintain a conversation- lingering eye contact and all, at least a solid eight minutes. But really, who was counting? (Maybe Jeno, but sneakily, because he really did want you two to get along) The topics were undeniably shallow: vagueness about why his friends treated you so openly, complaints about the apartments, suggestions for coffee shops and interesting Youtube videos and other nearby galleries and weekend deals on produce.</p><p>He summarized a meal that their friend Chenle, who at this point you only heard vague Jackass-esque stories about, was craving. After that, eventually when trading off dinner duties with Jaemin, you began experimenting with Renjun's unclear directions for Chinese dishes he missed. They were never quite the way his grandmother had prepared them, but perhaps that made him like them even better, secretly craving your unique touch. You were never afraid to deviate from the norm, to mess up and figure out creative ways to problem solve. These parts of you, in Renjun's eyes, were so perfectly flawed.</p><p>Following these brief conversations, you no longer felt like a stranger in your neighbors' apartment, someone who should sit on the very edge of a chair and carefully place their shoes next to each other in the entryway. You stopped texting forty minutes in advance every time you stopped by. From here, Renjun let you slouch next to him on the couch if Mark was in class and Jeno was working; he welcomed how you started watching everything he did with careful eyes, whatever thread he used sifted through his bony fingers.</p><p>Certainly, he still wouldn't admit it, but a small portion of your presence was comforting to him. Hours and hours of silent work over a sewing machine was the only other alternative, after all. Instead, you played soft music or watched a muted movie and occasionally even let yourself drift off to sleep for a few minutes at a time. Every new movement, of course, jostled you out of this, and had you focusing again on his repetitive motions.</p><p>You knew next to nothing about handicrafts, so your impressed hms and haws as he reversed fabric or pulled together seams gave a significant buff to his self-confidence. You never noticed how delicate and pin-struck his fingers were before this. When you had asked if he ever made anything outside of classwork, something like commissions or gifts, Renjun shook his head, gently clicking his tongue and silently wondering what color and fabric might suit you best.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>\</b>
</p><p>His hand slowly trails down your shoulder until he comes to the edge of your sleeve. "Come on," he demands again, slightly more forceful. "You really need to." It had been slightly over a week since you had returned home and almost an equal amount of time since you had set foot in the shower. After a few days, you made do with wet cloths and baby wipes, but quickly gave up on even that. It took intervention from a very specific person to even get you to this point.</p><p>About two hours ago, you had finally rolled out of bed, legs jelly, and about thirty minutes ago Renjun had begun the act of dragging you into the bathroom. Initially, you actively put up a fight, but now you were more or less a limp doll. Why did it matter, why should you exert energy resisting when you were still so, so tired? </p><p>Certainly, it hadn't been the first time you two had gotten physical, but it usually ended in a draw despite your equal levels of stubbornness. That, or an intervention from one of his roommates. You were pretty sure the first time you had legitimately punched Renjun in the nose, Mark had almost cried. At this moment now, you were certain if either of them - or any of his friends, saw you in this state, they may cry but for very different reasons. When you thought about it, you're sure your semi-recent news probably elicited that sort of reaction. You recalled the look on Mark's face, bleary-eyed like a wet and abandoned kitten, when Renjun blocked his phone number for two days. The memory sends needles of guilt into your heart, imagining that expression caused by you and the sheer despair surrounding it.</p><p>After some maneuvering, he balances you into a seated position on the edge of the bathtub - previously your apartment's pride and joy as the corner room, with your eyes continually cast towards the ground. The porcelain was cold against your bare thighs and the sensation just made you want to curl up into a ball even more. A space that had once been for relaxation, self-care, comfort, quickly turned back into a space that represented your old, remorseful habits. Renjun bends back up, hands on his hips to stretch his back as he stares you down. For a brief moment, he tucked his hand into his pocket.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Hyuck [31 minutes ago]:</strong> hey my man</p><p><strong>Hyuck [31 minutes ago]:</strong> did you want to return my videos anytime soon?</p><p><strong>Hyuck [26 minutes ago]:</strong> Junnie I KNOW it didn't take you a full week to watch</p><p><strong>Hyuck [22 minutes ago]:</strong> you're a literal monster. you make all the rest of us look bad intellectually and professionally</p><p><strong>Hyuck [16 minutes ago]:</strong> unless you've been busy visiting humpty dumpty, then take your time</p><p><strong>Hyuck [15 minutes ago]:</strong> but not too much time because I DO DEFINITELY NEED THEM FOR CLASS NEXT WEEK</p><p><strong>Hyuck [8 minutes ago]:</strong> also pls pls let Jeno know whats going on with dinner sched because i have been</p><p><strong>Hyuck [8 minutes ago]:</strong> L I T E R A L L Y  S T A R V I N G !!!!</p><p><strong>Hyuck [7 minutes ago]:</strong> not to be dramatic tho, I'm sure there's a lot going on</p><p><strong>Hyuck [4 minutes ago]:</strong> actually, is cooking a good idea afterwards? safety-wise? </p><p><strong>Hyuck [4 minutes ago]:</strong> the, uh.... knives and all that</p><p><strong>Hyuck [3 minutes ago]:</strong> I honestly don't know, Jeno wouldn't tell me details</p><p><strong>Hyuck [1 minute ago]:</strong> w/e not my business I guess</p><p><strong>Hyuck [1 minute ago]:</strong> anyways love you! good luck! it's all worth it! I'll give you a big hug next time we hang out</p><p> </p><p>After scanning through the various messages, he quickly shoves his phone back into the pocket, just in case you were curious enough to suddenly grab it. Well, who was he kidding, you were rarely in a phone-stealing manic mood; typically, you were very respectful of his boundaries and vice-versa, but he still didn't want to take the chance. Donghyuck had never been the most inconspicuous, and he certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with whatever sort of weird but supportive energy Donghyuck was trying to bring to the current emotional table. He usually erred closer to the side of being just a step too close to rude, anyways. You didn't need that now just as much as Renjun couldn't bear to deal with it.</p><p>In a swift motion, Renjun kneels down in front of you, taking your hands in his, and lets out a shaking sigh. "Please," he says softly, his hand drifting to your wrists. "Please," he repeats, gently outlining the raised scars as you don't pull away. Renjun knew that for awhile, you had lived alone, in a new city. He knew that you didn't have many friends before who would notice your daily trend of sweatbands and multiple thick bracelets and longer sleeves or gloves in the winter. He knew that, although you didn't wear much make-up, you owned enough to get by. He didn't know how long you had lived like this or quite exactly why, but he knew that he was all you had a lot of the time.</p><p>In a very delicate move, contrasting his earlier wrestling to get you to the point, he brought one of your hands up and laid a chaste kiss against your palm, and then each of your knuckles, and then the faint areas where your bruising had faded since you had been released from the hospital. He could still faintly feel the bump from where they had to inject all sorts of needles to fill you up with what you had tried to empty yourself of.</p><p>When you don't pull away, he takes his other hand to stroke your chin with his thumb before resting his head against your chest. Faintly, he heard the thump of your heart and he couldn't tell if the sound calmed him, like it had in the past, or made him more nervous. It reminded him of the first time he had fallen asleep against you. He couldn't even fathom how much that sound might have affected you- the ringing you must have had in your ears, the cloudy feeling as your blood rushed and adrenaline pumped before you finally just-</p><p>He pulls his head up, perhaps a tad too quickly, and looks up at you with pain in his eyes. Your gaze remains trained on where he holds your hand. "Ok!" He exclaims and, though it's a reasonable volume, you involuntarily flinch. Perhaps he feels this motion, because he then slowly returns your hands to your lap. This time, he instead reaches for the hem of your shirt, his eyes studying your expression and his hands quivering ever so slightly.</p><p>Taking his time to gauge your reaction, almost at a pace so slow it's painful, he pulls up the fabric, reaching around your back as you subserviently tucked your head down for him to remove it entirely. This wasn't the first time, so the action wasn't alien to you, but it was a different context. Plus, you had been very specific about going slowly - neither of you were particularly expressive and open to communicating off the bat.</p><p>For so long, you were so scared of him seeing you. You were so scared of feeling weak and existing.</p><p>Right now, you're too numb to feel embarrassed, though you're certain he partially is, so you press your lips into a thin, focused line, and use a finger to draw circles on the top of your own knee. Part of your brain is screaming to jab the nail in, to rip and twist and pull, but you swallow that down. All you have to do is just keep swallowing that down until maybe it goes away. God, you really hope it goes away someday.</p><p>He pauses, setting your shirt onto the bathroom floor, and presses his forehead against yours. "It's ok," he tells you softly, and you really, desperately want to believe that he's right. While laying a hand gingerly on your hip, just shy of the material of your underwear, he repeats this again. And again, as his other hand now holds the back of your neck, and now you know that even if it isn't ok right now, Renjun will make it so. The whispered words, a soft waterfall from his lips, is more of a promise than anything.</p><p>"Everything is going to be ok." If he says so, then it must be true. That, at the very least, has to be true now.</p><p>You try your best to control your breathing - part of you wants to cry but you're not sure if you're able anymore, if you've been pushing everything down for too long. You can't look at him, you can't face him, you don't want to acknowledge how close you got to ruining him. It's a disgusting mixture of fear and guilt and everything inside of you had been screaming, ever since you came back home, that you couldn't see him because he was the only thing left that gave you some semblance of control.</p><p>Renjun felt like all you had. And he was right here, but you almost weren't and you did that to him. You let out a choked sob finally, not fully crying but more borderline hyperventilating. In this moment, Renjun removes his hand from your hip and quickly balances out his phone from his pocket. "Do this for me- ok, please, wait, can you do this for me?" He types out on his phone while he takes very exaggerated breaths, slow and steady, in and out, and prompts you to do the same. So you try, because you owe him that much. You hold your breath for a moment, listening to his voice, the slight tinge of fear and panic nearly making it worse.</p><p> </p><p><strong>JunJun:</strong> Hey I need a favor</p><p><strong>JunJun:</strong> Hopefully someone is home</p><p><strong>JunJun:</strong> Can one of you go into the bottom drawer and get my swim trunks?</p><p><strong>JunJun:</strong> The ones with like, the weird geometric pattern</p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> yup i'm home! </p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> shit gimme a sec i'm all tangled up in wires rn</p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> wait hold up its november</p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> where are you</p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> y do you need these</p><p> </p><p>Renjun massages the back of your neck, more of a nervous tick on his side than a conscious effort to comfort you. With a very focused effort, you begin to steady your breathing, following his example and allow your eyes to simply close rather than focus on the persistent bruise from your most recent IV.</p><p> </p><p><strong>JunJun:</strong> next door</p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> o</p><p><strong>NoJam:</strong> :(</p><p><strong>NoJam:</strong> is everything alright?</p><p><strong>Mark:</strong> uh shit</p><p><strong>NoJam:</strong> I'm at work but let me know if you need me to pick anything up on the way back</p><p><strong>JunJun:</strong> yeah we're doing ok. comparably. and thanks</p><p> </p><p>With his goal more or less achieved, Renjun pockets his phone once more and lets the minutes pass by as your breathing becomes more centered, aligned with his own. Very slowly, he drops his hand from your neck and moves to stand up. You subconsciously shift, as if to follow, before he holds a hand up to cut you off.</p><p>"I'll be one second. Just one second. I promise. Keep breathing ok, just keep breathing?" And he knows those words mean so much more. With calm but hurried steps, he shuffles through the doorway just as the buzzer sounds. Retrieving the shorts takes a minute longer than Renjun would have hoped. There's a tension when Mark gives him a brief grimace, but he knows at this point not to push for information and instead asks if there's anything else you guys need, if both of you are safe, if Renjun wants him to stay just in case. </p><p>Renjun deliberates for a second. "No, that's nice of you, but everything is fine-" He catches himself, expression twisting a bit. There was no point in sugarcoating anything anymore, and Mark deserved an honest answer. "Well, it's something manageable. Really, I can handle it, I promise. Just order some take-out and finish your work." He muses, with a slightly pained smile. Mark returns with one of his own, letting out a weak laugh and says his goodbyes. As soon as Renjun closes the door behind him, he rips off his clothes and changes in a silent fury through your hallway.</p><p>In that time, you did certainly listen to what he told you, eyes remaining close and centered on naming each of the streets you used to pass through to get to work. When you finish with those, you move on to all of the bus stops on the line to Renjun's school. Then you count to ten and list all of the birthdays you can remember from your family. Your brain was filled with the lingering, gentle touches from Renjun and the repetition of names or numbers, so much so that you drowned out any internalized doubt of if you could ever return to work again, or even if you wanted to.</p><p>What did you want to do? For so long, all you did was go along with the motions. You didn't plan for the future because, the entire time growing up, you didn't expect to have one.</p><p>It wasn't until you heard him return that you peek your eyes open and see that he's changed. Thin goosebumps rise over the curve of his chest and he looks paler than he was a few months ago. You must be paler as well but you never noticed it. Overwhelmed with this newfound fire, Renjun is fiddling with the old and slightly rusted handle in for your bathtub. Jerking the curtain open, he held out both arms as the showerhead above began running at a steady speed.</p><p>You reach out, placing a shaky hand across his forearm and gather yourself to stand. He continues to avoid looking directly at you which, in another situation, you would probably appreciate. At this moment, it isn't even a thought. It's just your chest. You see it all the time. He's seen it before. You're useless and disgusting and literally the least sexy creature in the entire country right now. Your mind circles back onto this, the self-hatred beginning to drown out the numbers and the street names, until you feel his hand ghost your hip again.</p><p>"All you have to do is stand there, ok?" He breathes softly, close to your side and tickling the stray hairs along your ear. "That's all you have to do. I can handle it." With another deep breath, you nod and allow him to finish undressing you. Somehow it still feels harsh, uncaring, medicinal, despite the way he does it as though any slight pressure will shatter you. In a way, that may be true, or at least it was at one point.</p><p>Once you've finally steadied yourself, you step over the edge and into the stream of water. After such a long time, it's an alien experience, doubled by the fact that Renjun gingerly pads in behind you after you've given him enough space. Using his hands, he angles your shoulders towards the water to let it run through your hair. Finally, you let out a sigh and tilt your neck up slightly, soothed by the warmth. In front of you, though you don't notice, Renjun has a bubbling feeling in his chest that he wants to cry and worship you at the same time. He knows it's wrong, that he can't, that you can't handle that right now. It will only make you second-guess everything even more. He pushes the feeling down, again, and focuses instead on massaging his fingers through your scalp.</p><p>Weakly, you can only let it happen; he spreads the shampoo into his palm and combs it through, letting the suds run along your back and legs and down the drain along with everything else you needed to let go of. Somehow, it's like you're a child again, both patronized and protected. Renjun's hands continue, delicate but with purpose, making sure to unfurl any tangle. </p><p>After he's finished with your hair, he takes a moment to scan through your other products - things he doesn't know the smell of as well because you use them so inconsistently, until he's picked some sort of peach and flowery body wash. He thinks it was a gift from Jaemin and you're not sure what kind of message that was trying to send, but the scent itself is pleasant enough that Renjun doesn't even try to overthink it right now. Lathering the liquid between his hands, he's so focused that he almost doesn't hear you speak.</p><p>"You don't have to do any of this." Yes, it's a mumble- you say it to yourself more than to him, but Renjun is a trained professional in muttering under your breath. His head snaps up and in that time, you've reached up to grab his hands, guiding him onto your neck and shoulders, letting him choose to do more or not.</p><p>"I- I know," he pauses, hesitantly passing the pads of his fingers on the underside of your breasts, "I mean..." He does this once more, before Renjun has decided it's enough - that he can and should control himself. Instead, he simply nudges you to turn back into the water. "I want to, so it's fine."</p><p>For the first time in awhile, you scoff slightly. "No, no, you don't. Nobody would." You reply, a little sharper than you intended. Everything in your life is sharp except for him. The body wash rinses off, leaving a faint but pleasant scent behind, and Renjun sighs once more.</p><p>"Ok, fine, I'll be honest. I don't particularly<em> want</em> to, but I need to. Is that better?" Noting his exasperated tone and fearing another argument that may make things worse, you both shut up until you've stepped back out of the tub and the handle is turned off. Your heart is racing, nearly painful - certainly different from how he's made your heart race before.</p><p>"Sorry," he mumbles, after some time, and quickly wrings out the excess water in his swim shorts before coming back to your side. As he briefly towels down his legs, he straightens up, and you notice him open his mouth to speak but quickly change his mind. Reaching over, Renjun pats your front and back before wrapping the towel around your shoulders. "Is this still the easiest comb to use?" He muses, almost absentmindedly, looking at the array you have and hovering a hand over one in particular. You hum in affirmation before sitting down on the floor. In a surprisingly casual motion, Renjun set down a spare folded towel on the floor in front of you.</p><p> </p><p>And you finally met his eyes, or he met your's, and he remembered why he was here. He remembered the first time he saw you, hair wet and clad in a towel - how he had never mentioned that you hadn't actually first seen him in the art gallery before he had sewn that first ballgown.</p><p>The only person he could imagine in it was that warrior he had seen before, slick shoulders and barefoot and bright-eyed; to him, you must be made of fire and wit and opinions. Every distinct stitch and complexly embroidered edge expressed the presence you held in his mind. That original image- the you who could keep up with his nagging and bite back with sarcasm, was so uncomfortably different from the picture you painted now, quiet and sad beneath him, looking like an abandoned child. He kept that dress in a box for months, locked up almost as much as his heart had been in the beginning, before it was eventually lost to the labyrinth of shelving in his university's storage room. Nobody had to know it ever existed if it disappeared, he supposed.</p><p>Renjun remembered the days after that and when you had called him, only the second time you had cried at him- for him. Fuck, Renjun thought to himself, breathing in the heavy, honeyed scent of your shampoo as he knelt in front of you. Fuck. He knew Donghyuck was right, in a way. Everything up until now was worth it because you were still here. He found himself placing the comb in your lap and opting to grab your hands instead, fingers running over your wrists again. Goosebumps were beginning to rise on your forearms and he sucked in the deepest breath of air he could, humid and thick and floral and oh-so entirely <em>you</em>. </p><p>"Hey," he finally says, after what felt like an eternity. "[y/n]." Slowly, consciously, you blink up at him before drifting down to your hands, together.</p><p>You, by this point, had also realized why you were still here. "Hi," you find yourself nibbling slightly on your bottom lip. "Junnie." He catches a snicker in his throat, before hanging his head slightly.</p><p>"Please don't do that." You purse your lips in response, giving him a very tired smile that tugs every single heartstring individually.</p><p>"You let Jaemin and Hyuck do it, though."</p><p>He looks back upon you, eyes trained on your pouted, defiant lips for a moment, then gives the closest to a genuine laugh since the past week. "I don't <em>let</em> them do anything. They just do it. If physical violence worked, I would get what I wanted whenever I wanted."</p><p>You stretch your legs out underneath him, and reach your fingers down to touch his hands on your wrist in whatever way you could. "Whatever you wanted, huh?" He gently releases your wrist and you let your hands intertwine with a contented sigh.</p><p>"Sometimes I wish I could be as lackadaisical and carefree as those two idiots," he huffs, the memories of their bratty remarks and snide facial expressions taking him out of the moment briefly. "I, uh... I've been trying not to mention it," he speaks slowly, carefully, "but they both kept asking when you were allowed to come back home." Where your hands connect becomes looser and lazier with each word he speaks. "Is it... ok to tell them?"</p><p>With your slow blinks up at him, Renjun returns a tired smile at you and wants to mentally strangle himself for bringing it up when you were in this state. "Sorry, that was a dumb question. We can talk about it later. Don't worry about it. And- I know it's easy for me to tell you not to worry but," Renjun sighs in defeat, before moving to the side to pick the comb once more. "Nevermind, forget I said anything. Could you turn around so I can brush your hair? You know it'll tangle if I don't. Unless it's easier- I mean, I could sit behind you, if you want. You probably don't want to get the floor all wet? There's another spare towel in the closet, right-"</p><p>He's rambling, which he only does when he's actually upset, and he knows it and you know it, so you curve your body upwards and angle your face to press your lips into his. It actually takes a few solid seconds for his brain to register, for him to remember what your lips felt like, before he's given up on talking and ever-so-slightly begins to cup your cheek. The kiss lasts for maybe twenty seconds before you dip your chin down slightly and huff, "Don't do that." </p><p>"Don't d- wh..." He stammers out in confusion. His tongue subconsciously flicks out onto his bottom lip and you hold your hand over his on your cheek.</p><p>"Don't beat yourself up-" You stop, giving a joking smile. "Only I'm allowed to do that."</p><p>He snorts. "Beat yourself up or beat me up?"</p><p>You hum for a moment in thought. "Both?" He rolls his eyes but also nods, seemingly in understanding, and your smile smooths out slightly. "I mean it, though. I don't want you having to tip-toe around me like I'm- I don't know, a bird with clipped wings or something." He doesn't say anything because he's angry, angry at himself; he doesn't want you to think he's walking on eggshells around you, it doesn't feel that way to him. More than anything, Renjun wishes everything was simple and gentle, that your brain or your emotions or the world, or any combination of the three, wasn't the way it was. That they didn't do these things to you or that there wasn't anything he could do about it.</p><p>You close your eyes and inhale deeply, pressing your forehead against him. A few moments pass in silence, reveling in having a peaceful, quiet environment that feels warm instead of cold, for once since this entire mess began. "You can tell Jeno that I'll talk to them. I miss everyone. Just... not quite yet." As you speak, Renjun has slowly begun to arch his back to lean into you further, before a realization sparks in his eyes.</p><p>"What I said... before," he speaks slowly, trying to not make it obvious that he's trained on your reaction, "what I meant- what I really meant, is that I'm willing to take care of you however you need. That's what I want." You chuckle softly, ever so slightly puffing your breath against his face and he kind of loves it even if your breath smells a little bit. He makes a mental note to see if you let him brush your teeth tomorrow.</p><p>"I know that," you sigh. "It's awful that I have to do this to you." With your eyes, you give your own attempt to gauge his response.</p><p>"You're not forcing me." His eyes droop slightly and he leans in to press a soft kiss to you again before repeating this. "You're not. It's not awful, because it's for you. You know I would never do something like this for anyone else." It was true and you, and plenty of his friends, were quite astutely aware. Very gently, Renjun begins to press in with his hand and nearly squish your cheek. With a swift motion, you grab his wrist and begin to mirror his earlier motions, placing your lips softly against his palm and then his wrist. Renjun lets out an unsteady breath, just glad in this moment that he can feel you and be with you, existing together. Although the material of his shorts cling, itchy and uncomfortable, against the underside of his legs and his hair is beginning to stick up in the humidity, it feels perfect. Being with you is perfect.</p><p>You bring your face back up towards his, and allow your arms to slot into their place around his neck, curved like a mold for you and you alone. This time, when you kiss him, Renjun can truly recognize that both nothing and everything has changed because of this. Your mouth is warm and your lips curl into a grin when he concedes you to lead into a deeper kiss. Many times before, it had been unbearably awkward, but you had adjusted to each other's odd quirks; your favorite was the way his nose gets a rabbit-twitch each time he starts to run out of breath.</p><p>After what seems like a single moment, drawn-out and ethereal like a hazy summer night, you pull away. Before anything more can happen, you turn around to oblige for his earlier request, giving him full access to the wet hair that clings to the back of your neck. As he recognizes what you're doing, he allows the movement. In the aftermath of the smallest tint of pink to his cheeks, he lets a hand linger across his bottom lip before scooting forward and taking a section of your hair into his hands.</p><p>"I know I don't have to say it- I mean, you told me not to force myself or anything," you begin, courage spiked from the nostalgia of affection but lack of pressuring eye contact. With a weak laugh, you shake your head softly as he begins threading through the locks of your hair.</p><p>"I really love you, Renjun."</p><p> </p><p>Two weeks later, you allow yourself to venture into Renjun's bed instead of your own. Mark made a personalized playlist and Jeno found a neat lava lamp that he 'forgot' in there; neither of them pushed you to talk and at first, you preferred it that way because, for a bit, you weren't sure how to act like a normal person anymore. Outside of the potential social stresses, the space is, at the very least, a change of scenery, and despite the fact that Renjun is almost so busy that you're constantly sleeping alone, somehow just being there is comforting-- being able to hear the soft clicks of doors when the others enter or exit rooms, or the distant electrical buzzing when anyone is doing work in the living room, or the shuffle of pots if they attempt cooking. The bed somehow always smells like him. You are no longer purely alone and you never have to be again.</p><p>A small analog clock clicks away on his bedside table, keeping you company, rhythmic and consistent like a heartbeat. With the thrum of your own heart, you think about how someday Renjun is going to die and you are going to die, but that it doesn't necessarily have to happen right now. You learn to find peace in living until that time arrives.</p><p>In the aftermath, you can now say that you love Renjun just as much as you love being around his friends. And in the times when Renjun has stumbled back after hours of sewing in a studio, he allows himself to find peace within what was once his 'personal space', just as you are beginning to. He slings one lazy arm over your abdomen, head nuzzling between your neck and your shoulder, humming along to whatever faded music is coming out of your phone, as the safe, consistent heat of your bodies melt together. Sometimes, during that feeling, you think you should want more- but then you remind yourself that everything must be taken at its own pace. </p><p>And on the days Renjun is free, the two of you walk hand-in-hand to libraries and movies and therapy appointments. In the past year and a half you had known each other (plus the extra five months as strangers that Renjun was secretly pining), nothing was ever easy but you both took it in stride because you were together.</p><p>For better or for worse, you still always manage to catch him off-guard. What both of you may never know is the easiest way for him to become doe-eyed and slack-jacked was to be with you.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello please enjoy!!<br/>This is the first of several oneshot fics I'm workin on, I hate editing! :) the rest of them will probably not be as.... Emotionally Heavy...<br/>I wrote 2/3s of my first draft with no outline in a vaguely aggressive frenzy while laying around in a towel in the dark! that was 13 months ago, can you imagine...</p><p>check me out at bnanaz on tumblr, which I'll be more active on soon ✨</p></blockquote></div></div>
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